Primo Cloud'n Sun Deathfics
by IdyllicCritic
Summary: Peaceful death is an rarity for both parties involved, and this is especially true when you work for the mafia. Deathfics to tormort a beloved oversensitive online friend that goes by the penname Gen, who loves her brotp Alaude and Knuckle immensely! Initially posted on tumblr, now joining the famed FanFic! Each chapter is oneshot unless stated otherwise. Rated M to be safe.
1. Fatal Betrayal

**Pairings/characters: **Aquile + Knuckle (brotp)  
**Genre: **Drama  
**Rating: **T  
**Warnings: **Violence and death  
**Disclaimer: **Katekyo Hitman Reborn belongs to Amano. Reviews and comments causes additional creativity, which leads to more fanfictions!

**Author (READ ME): **There is this awesome online friend of mine that goes by the penname of Gen. She is VERY big on her brotp Alaude (which she rps) and Knuckle. Eventually, one day after discussing parallel worlds with her (as my featured character is Byakuran), she had the bright idea of creating an parallel world Alaude, in which this one is an traitor and had actually betrayed the Vongola, killing Knuckle and driving Giotto out of the Vongola. This alternate Alaude is called Aquile. The tumblr blog that features Aquile is known as traditoreuccello: I recommand that you visit it!

Naturally, as sadistic as I am, I've set out to write deathfics to tormort her featuring the death of either characters in her cherished brotp. I've decided to feature them here because they are very fine pieces of artwork.

Vocabulary time!  
_Brotp: A OTP (One true Pairing) in which two characters having an extremely close relationship (can be defined as Destined To Be Best Friends Forever), without them necessary having any biological links to each other, neither "love" each other the ways lovers loves._

* * *

**Fatal Betrayal**

**.**

A death, rattle-like gasp rang out, echoing in the silence of the macabre play that unfolds away from any preying eyes.

There was no blood. No carnage. Just brutality at its finest, making fleshy melody as steel-toed boots drummed away at fragile bones below the thin layer of skin. No words were sung; just the sharp snaps, the brittle cracks, and wet, gaping intake of bubbling breath midst metallic clicks accompanying the morbid music of murder.

And like any musical masterpiece, there came a moment of pause, a brief lapse of stillness from the violent music, even as tension danced in the atmosphere, seething from the vertical and the horizontal.

Tanned eyes met icy blue eyes, and for a moment, nothing else existed but that moment; the very same moment highlighted by a searing betrayal and shattered trust. And yet, even as the hollow cavity in the priest's chest seems to collapse deeper and deeper unto itself with each wet intake of air, there was no anger in these eyes. No accusation. No hate. No demands for explications.

As darkness slithered into the corners of the tanned eyes, a hand shakily reached up in an silent plea for consolation; an lonesome voiceless gaze begging to be comforted by what was once a trusted and loved company; now an murderous traitor who had reduced the priest- an former friend- into nothing more than a macabre, discarded piece of art.

« ….Why ? »

A single word, strangely clear as a sharp note despite the wetness that envelops it. It was more than just a want. Nay, it was a need. The need to know that if all that time they spend together, the moments of joy and of friendships, and the words they had shared was nothing more than but a mere illusion.

The context of the traitorous deed was no longer important and never was; what was significant was the searing realization that what the priest once thought to be the truth was nothing more than falsehood in the sheep's clothing, and even worse, what he believed to be the reality never even existed in the first place.

The whispering, muttering doubt was even more high-pitched than the act of betrayal itself, a discord in what seemed to be sure and constant. Even still, these glittering, watering imploring tanned eyes and that outstretched hand kept reaching, begging for the comfort of the denied truth.

But there was neither truth nor lie to be sung, and no desire to comfort on the aggressor's part. Was there really anything else to tell, when the act of molding the priest's chest cavity into a crude, bloodless and shapeless bath bird speaks volume in itself?

The wet, bubbling music box had gone on far too long, what with broken bits mutilating it from the inside. The act is over, and now it's the time for the curtains. No need to quicken the music; just a single, plaintive wheezing note will do.

And as the final breath was simply pushed from the mouthpiece so did the vibrant red elixir, bubbling out screaming why, the silent implorations for comfort became lost as eyes gazed over in the talons of death. Even then, that hand was still reaching, for that tiniest bit of hope.

That glint of would-be regret, any evidence that would restore his faith in that beloved relationship they once had.

But there was no light to be found in these icy blue eyes, and the beckoning hand- as well as the silent pleas- went unheeded.

And with that, the final verse of this death lyric, of what once was been and could have been an nurturing relationship, was nothing short of an emotionless illusion that isn't even worth having a final tune.

_Clunk._

* * *

_Author: Huhuh. I tore Gen's feelz and heart out with this one. And I wasn't done with her yet. Not by an long shot! Review?_


	2. Fatal Betrayal, Knuckle POV

**Pairings/characters: **Aquile + Knuckles (brotp)  
**Genre: **Drama  
**Rating: **T  
**Warnings: **Violence and death  
**Disclaimer: **Katekyo Hitman Reborn belongs to Amano. Reviews and comments causes additional creativity, which leads to more fanfictions!

**Author (READ ME): **There is this awesome online friend of mine that goes by the penname of Gen. She is VERY big on her brotp Alaude (which she rps) and Knuckles. Eventually, one day after discussing parallel worlds with her (as my featured character is Byakuran), she had the bright idea of creating an parallel world Alaude, in which this one is an traitor and had actually betrayed the Vongola, killing Knuckles and driving Giotto out of the Vongola. This alternate Alaude is called Aquile. The tumblr blog that features Aquile is known as traditoreuccello: I recommand that you visit it!

Naturally, as sadistic as I am, I've set out to write deathfics to tormort her featuring the death of either characters in her cherished brotp. I've decided to feature them here because they are very fine pieces of artwork. This minific is a sibling of "Fatal Betrayal" from the previous chapter, but this time it is in Knuckles's POV.

Vocabulary time!  
_Brotp: A OTP (One true Pairing) in which two characters having an extremely close relationship (can be defined as Destined To Be Best Friends Forever), without them necessary having any biological links to each other, neither "love" each other the ways lovers loves._

* * *

**Fatal Betrayal, Knuckle's POV**

**.**

No matter how betrayed he is, even as his structural physique lays in ruins, even as his final breath and the elixir of life was being pressed out of him by the one he had trusted, the one that he had always counted upon… he will always consider the other as his closest friend- no, it's not quite the right word. Not as a close friend, but as a family. A brother.

Even if Alaude does not feel the same way about him.

Even through his only, sole "Why?" went unheeded… he still believed that the man leering down at him with cold, uncaring eyes is still worth saving. He had seen something in the other. He does not know what it is, but he had felt… a kindled spirit with him. But alas, it would seem that it would not come to pass in this world.

And as darkness swallowed him, he could only think, wonder, _hoping_ that someplace out there, in a faraway world out there, in an distant future if incarnation were possible, that he and Alaude would both share that relationship.

And as Knuckle fell irreversibly into the dream realm, an faint image of an smiling blond flashed before his eyes.

_Goodbye for now, Alaude. I'll be waiting for you…_

* * *

_Author: That too tore Gen up. I'm so evil. Heheheheh. Reviews?  
_


	3. Fatal Drop

**Pairings/characters: **Aquile + Knuckle (brotp)  
**Genre: **Drama  
**Rating: **T  
**Warnings: **Violence and death  
**Disclaimer: **Katekyo Hitman Reborn belongs to Amano. Reviews and comments causes additional creativity, which leads to more fanfictions!

**Author (READ ME): **There is this awesome online friend of mine that goes by the penname of Gen. She is VERY big on her brotp Alaude (which she rps) and Knuckles. The tumblr blog that features her Alaude goes by severnal names, but the most recent is eatmyhandcuffs: I recommand that you visit it!

Naturally, as sadistic as I am, I've set out to write deathfics to tormort her featuring the death of either character in her cherished brotp. I've decided to feature them here because they are very fine pieces of artwork.

Vocabulary time!  
_Brotp: A OTP (One true Pairing) in which two characters having an extremely close relationship (can be defined as Destined To Be Best Friends Forever), without them necessary having any biological links to each other, neither "love" each other the ways lovers loves._

* * *

**Fatal drop**

**.  
**

He was dangling by his arm, and the sweat that covered both their hands made their interwebbed hands slip away from each other, fraction by fraction.

_Oh gods, no. Please, lord, do not let him slip from my hands._

He squeezed and squeezed, a hand grasping the rope and the other interlaced an hand, and he felt as if his body was being torn between the two.

_Please, lord, let me save him, let me save Alaude! Please, give me the strength to save him!_

He could only look down, eyes wide in despair. Even with the bellowing abyss below them, his eyes only saw ice blue eyes looking up at him, almost pleadingly.

Eyes that his most trusted companionship would not show to anyone but him and Giotto.

They both descended by fraction by fraction, as the thin strings that made the rope snapped audibly, one by one, under their combined weight.

And then the blond's gaze softened, and he mouthed. Mouthed words.

"NO!" The priest screeched, grasp squeezing the others painfully, but this only made the other slip from his grasp much, much faster. "I WILL NOT LET GO! CLIMB! CLIMB!" And with all his might, he tried to pull the other up, pull him to the pseudo-safety of the rope.

And the blond only shook his head, and spoke words that shall be forever lost to his ears. And suddenly, his grasp slackened, and then there were nothing to hold on, just two outstretched hands.

For a bref moment, everything stopped.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

And as an _thunk_ rang out…

Everything had became still and quiet.

The rope had stopped descending.

* * *

_Author: Hey I killed Knuckle twice. It's only fair that it's the turn of Alaude! I love to collect Gen's tears and drink them. Kekekeke. Review?_


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